


Through the Looking Glass

by Janecat



Series: Alone With You [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Angst, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janecat/pseuds/Janecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pieces of himself, Dick doesn't want to string the whole picture together. He won't like what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Looking Glass

There's another added luxury to the room Dick's confined in that he tries to avoid as much as possible.

"Open your eyes." Jason says.

"No."

"Open them." he commands.

In the mirror he can see Jason, see that he has an arm around a thin waist. A bruised and bitten chest some wounds faded some fresh. Blue eyes he thinks may have been bright once look tired and empty. A split lip, there was another fight - he doesn't remember when. Pieces of himself, Dick doesn't want to string the whole picture together. He won't like what he sees.

Jason catches him, "You're not looking."

"I know what I look like." 

_Looked like._

He holds Dick's chin up, "Do you?"

His throat tightens as he looks at himself, really looks. He barely recognizes the man before him, he looks more like a frightened child than the full grown adult he really is. Jason grins and begins kissing his neck while he watches his body automatically react by tilting his head to the side to allow his brother better access to his neck. To mark him, to claim him. His blood rushes. His breath hitches. He wants more.  
He's been arguing with himself for days each fight more vicious then the next. Dick doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. Giving in to Jason is so much easier than fighting, it really is and when he does Jason is a lot less rough... for the most part. The hand at his waist slips further down but stops.

“What do you want?” It's not even a question. Dick knows the answer he has to give. An image of his hands wrapping tight around Jason's neck floats by. He swallows.

“Touch me.”

“Not enough.”

He takes a breath, “I want you to -touch me.”

Jason's hands are larger than his, he watches the callused digits tease their way down further. He sees his lips part as his brother grips him and can't help but wonder if this is similar to what an out of body experience feels like. There's heat building between their bodies but Dick's too caught up with the show in the mirror.

“Always the performer.” Jason breathes into his ear, their reflected eyes meeting.

Jason's right. To the observer, which he is, Dick looks to be enjoying himself. To the way his chest rises and falls in panting breaths down to his dripping hardness. His toes reflexively curl against the tile as he cums and his mirror self shudders leaning into Jason. That Dick wanted it, begged for it. 

He's going to break that mirror.

An hour later Dick untangles himself from Jason, his body sticking to the sweat soaked sheets. Jason looks content, his eyes are closed like he's at peace with the world. As though he's not lying next to his own brother he's been using and abusing for longer than Dick can keep track of anymore. Too long. Long enough to crack. Long enough to start caring for a psychotic and doubt himself and worst of all his family. But where were they? Surely someone cared enough about him to try but maybe like Tim once they heard the details of the situation the search was dropped. He was left to rot with Jason playing him like a puppet.  
He could throw Jason into the mirror watch the blood trail down his brothers back. Watch it pool onto the tiles. He stops himself. Forcing back the shiver building inside himself Dick gazes at his brothers profile, tracing it with his eyes.

“I want to hurt you.” he says and the words sound so silly but the tone in his voice shows there's a much deeper meaning to it.

Jason turns his head, eyes opening. There's no doubt he didn't hear the real truth in those words,“Yea? How?”

“Whatever it takes to keep you down.”

“Thinking of killing me?”

“ **No** , I'm not like you.”

Jason sneers and rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending to be the good son. He's dead and they're gone. You're lethal but weak.”

“Starving someone tends to do that.” and Dick's a little amazed that he still has the capacity to be snarky. 

Jason's eyes narrow but he doesn't strike. Not physically anyway, “I didn't mean me. All I ever wanted to do was give you the freedom you need.”

“Freedom?” Dick almost wants to laugh but he's certain that will end in blows.

“Bruce caged you from the start, you don't see it but when you do – you'll be free.” he kisses Dick then, pushing him back down on the wet sheets for the next round.

-

Jason's wrong. His words only have the impact they do because of his exhausted state of mind. Bruce is gone what he did or didn't do isn't relevant to his current situation, right? Dick's leaning his palms against the sink as he stares ahead into the mirror. He looks hollow, feels it too, it's like all his years of training and maintaining have slipped through his fingers. If none of that matters anymore then who is he supposed to be? Jason's personal fuck toy? To be torn apart and pieced back together until the pieces just won't stick, and for what? Some moral high ground that apparently makes it OK to abandon your brother when he's in need?  
Dick's body stiffens, his eyes meeting his reflections. Is that what he did to Jason? He's really no better than any of them. Jason is only trying to open his eyes to everything Dick's been told to hide away or not think about. It's too much. He wants to yell and let it all out but his voice has locked itself away deep in his throat. He catches sight his reflection and sends a fist directly into it's face. Then another. And another. The mirror's shattered pieces litter the sink and floor. Dick's knuckles are bloody and burning but he welcome's the pain. He did this, it was his choice and right now that's all that matters.

“The fuck did you do?!” Jason says ten minutes later the bedroom door slamming into the wall with a loud crash.

“What you wanted me to.” his voice feels empty but lighter.

Jason guides him back to the sink cleaning off his hands and sitting him down on the toilet before leaving the room and coming back with a basic first aid kit. While Jason wraps his knuckles Dick looks up at his brother, he's sporting fresh not yet bandaged stitches on his chest. There's a weird pull in his own chest that takes him a moment to define, it's worry. Someone hurt his brother. 

“You're hurt.” Dick says.

“It's nothing.”

“Who did it?”

“You wanna cheer them on?” Jason pulls the gauze a bit tighter than necessary. 

“No...” he pictures Jason stitching himself up, most likely forgoing anesthetic, “I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Not what you said yesterday.”

“Things change.”

Once his brother finishes bandaging him up he makes to leave, muttering insults of Dick's over dramatic stunt. Dick reaches out, his hand giving a small throb as he grips Jason's arm. He feels stomach knot up and what he's going to do but in his mind it's the right decision. The only decision he has.

“Jason,” he pauses a moment, “I want to help you.”

“Fuck you're help, Dick. I don't have to hear that shit again.”

“That's not what I meant.” Dick looks down at his hands, “I want to join you.”

The taller man's eyes narrow almost in confusion, “What're you playing at?” 

“Nothing.”

Jason gets in close the heat of his body emanating onto Dick, “You think after months of you fighting I'm gonna fucking believe you now.”

Dick doesn't budge, “What do I have to do?”

Jason looks him over as if sizing him up,”Don't fuck up your bandages. I'll bring dinner later.”

“But-”

“Don't argue. Rule number one if you're with me. If I fucking let you, you're weak and I don't know if you're worth anything more than a fuck anymore.” Jason stands, kit in hand, and leaves the room.

Dick listens to the deadbolts locking shut and exhales. He doesn't feel the regret he had expected to come. A ghost of a smile passes his face. He might actually see the night sky again soon.


End file.
